Moment of Weakness
by Alex L. Kerr
Summary: "The thing on the bed growled and Sam felt the arm across his chest strap him in tighter. He was petrified because he knew. He just knew: the thing was after him." Mix of genres in this one: hurt/comfort & family & supernatural & drama & suspense as well. Weechester fic. Sam 9 & Dean 13.


**Writer's Note: **Hi! So I took some liberties with this monster's rules. Mainly that Rawheads can't cross salt. So just fyi on that one.

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Sam's pupils were blown. He stared straight ahead, petrified.

The thing on the bed growled and Sam felt the arm across his chest strap him in tighter. Sam swallowed and let out a gasped exhale. He was shaking so hard… He knew. He just knew: the thing was after _him_.

A meagre line of salt was the barrier between life and death right now… And the thing just stared at him, drilling its small, slitted eyes into Sam's. Its pupils – if that's what they were – were just as blown as Sam's but not in fear; rather with predatory excitement.

The thing _wanted_ him. Badly.

It was just a matter of time before…

The thing gave a long, slow grunt as it crawled off its perch on the bed to level itself on the floor in front of Sam.

"Fuck," Dean's paper-thin voice cracked with fear behind Sam. He grabbed his little brother and scrambled them backwards farther into the corner of the motel room. Sam was shaking like a leaf, his hands grasping Dean's tightly when Dean pulled him back. Sam didn't let go and Dean made no move to detach.

They resumed their watch: it remained by the salt line and looked… _happy_. It fixed a feral smile upon Sam, its head lowered and its bloodshot and blackened eyes looking up at him threateningly, pitching snarls at them. Its face was made of pale, cracked decaying skin and it kept tilting its head, studying its prey. Drool trickled in lines from its grotesque, blood-stained mouth, spattering the bedspread before and now, the floor in front of them. It made muffled groaning noises, shivering its body like an animal… It'd finish by settling its eyes back on Sam with hungry anticipation. It breathed loudly, grating rasps of yearning coming out regularly, no doubt desiring Sam.

After half an hour of this, Sam was basically at his wit's end, having watched the thing staring at him with just as much attention to detail. A starved rabid creature waiting it out for a juicy meal. That's literally what this was.

' Sam twitched when Dean moved his arm away from his chest to look at his watch.

"Sh," Dean murmured, his voice trembling as he pulled his sleeve up to reveal the time. Sam looked down jerkily.

"H-how much longer?" Sam whispered. At the sound of his voice, the creature released a loud, guttural, frustrated roar at them and Dean immediately clutched Sam, bringing his knee up around the kid's torso to cover him and angle him away from it. Dean could feel Sam's shivering body under him and held him tighter. Sam close to hyperventilating but there was nothing Dean could do about that.

"Sh… " Dean's voice kept cracking breathily with fear, "Sammy remember what Dad said. Don't provoke it," Dean whispered into his brother's ear. Sam swallowed and let out a slow, controlled exhale before nodding against his big brother. Dean squeezed him and let his head relax along the side of Sam's for a second.

Dean was terrified, knowing the fatal flaw in their current predicament: the salt could be blown away by the creature's breath if the thing actually wised up that it actually _could_.

So far, so good but at the tender age of thirteen Dean was still definitely no stranger to Winchester luck and Winchester luck dictated they were pretty much fucked.

Dean's whole body tensed and covering Sam's, he felt sweat roll down his face and drip against Sam's thin t-shirt. He took cues from his brother's attempt to control his breath and after a few matched exhales with the kid, Dean turned back around to get another look at the thing to see what it was doing.

The creature was crouched, swaying less than two feet away from them, watching them with that vicious grin plastered across its disgusting, drooling, mouth-breathing face.

Dean turned back around to face the wall with Sam again.

"Shit fuck god damn it," Dean streamed out in whispers against Sam's neck. Sam spasmed his grasp against Dean, obviously scared by Dean's lack of composure. "No no it's okay. It's okay, sorry," Dean breathed.

"Dean," Sam rasped, "what… is it?"

Dean licked his lips and debated telling him. It might just scare the kid further and really they just needed to wait it out… maybe…

Dean winced, his lip trembling and eyes starting to tear up: he knew their father was incredibly unpredictable and inaccurate with his ETAs. Dean had last spoken to him around five PM when he'd just finished the hunt. He'd said he'd be back at the motel by nine but it was ten PM right now meaning he probably went out for a couple of beers to unwind before packing it in… which left the two of them stranded and hanging on to the flimsiest survival technique: this creature's monumental stupidity.

It would figure it out eventually, Dean knew.

Dean needed to figure something out sooner. Dean closed his eyes with pained concentration, ducking his head against Sam's back again.

"A Rawhead I think," Dean finally answered, thinking about them. They only went after kids so… It should've gone after both of them.

But it hadn't. It'd just gone after Sam… meaning there was some extra factor to its targets besides just being kids. Dean vaguely managed to recall the rhyme: _Rawhead and bloody bones, steals naughty children from their homes, takes them to his dirty den, and they are never seen again_.

Besides the obvious creep factor, Dean narrowed in on the second line. _Naughty_ kids? Really? Sam was as straight-laced as they came and he was only nine years old…

The thing grunted and huffed impatiently behind them and Dean twitched his arms around Sam again.

"Okay… okay, Sammy?" Dean prompted, unable to waste any more time.

"Yeah?" Sam stuttered.

"Have you been bad recently?" Dean asked desperately, accidentally reverting to childlike simplicity with his words. In truth they really couldn't afford to use more words than necessary; after about five minutes in its company it became pretty clear their voices riled it up. The more excited it got, the more it moved and breathed at them which in turn meant the more likely it was to realize it could just _move air_ to destroy the slapdash salt line.

"W-what?" Sam replied, genuine confusion coming through. He tilted his head to try to see Dean's face behind him but stopped short when Dean answered to listen.

"It's only targeting you, Sammy. Lore says it goes after naughty kids," Dean explained worriedly.

"Naughty?" Sam repeated, bafflement pretty clear in his hushed voice now.

"Yeah naughty - bad – kids," Dean whispered back. Now was not the time to sound judgmental; he was just trying to figure out what the hell was going on and why Sam was getting targeted. He felt Sam shift uncomfortably against him.

"No," Sam said after a long pause and Dean knew he was lying. Dean cringed, annoyed. They didn't have time for this but Sam didn't know that. Dean was pretty positive the kid hadn't realized the Rawhead could destroy the salt line if it saw even just one breeze start to push the grains apart on the carpet. Luckily the windows were shut but still: their survival hung on the thing being a total and complete idiot: Rawheads weren't ever depicted as particularly intelligent but they were known to have basic reasoning skills… and that was all this thing needed to figure out how to dismantle their weak defense.

Dean wanted to tell Sam just so he could get this confession over with faster but the kid was already too terrified, shamelessly clinging to Dean, his body locked and tensed with fear, breath irregular and heart matching the beat of a Chemical Brothers song. Telling him would just compound the problem and make it harder for the kid to breathe, much less speak.

"W-why?" Sam whispered uncertainly.

"Sammy," Dean breathed, trying to make his voice sound calm and reassuring, "Sammy listen - it's okay, all right? I won't be mad at anything if you've done something. You just…" The Rawhead growled behind Dean and Dean could tell it'd moved up closer to them – closer to the salt line. Dean wrapped his body around Sam tighter, covering more of him. "You just… just need to tell me, Sammy," Dean pleaded, his voice pitching with barely contained fear and desperation. Dean felt a tear roll down his cheek. The thing would figure it out and it'd go straight for Sam. "Over my dead body," was not a joke though: the only solace Dean could have was that Sam would maybe have a few more precious moments of life while Dean got mauled first.

Dean prayed and felt Sam starting to cry.

"Shh…shh…" Dean's hushes quaked between his own hyperventilating breaths and into Sam's ear. Sam turned his cheek against Dean's shoulder, hiding his face into his brother's t-shirt, trying to cut off sobs and giving wet, clipped gasps instead. Dean blinked out his own tears.

_Please, Dad, please God, let Dad come home right now. We're gonna die if he doesn't. Please…please come home Dad and save us – Save Sammy… _Dean begged in his thoughts, holding his crying, trembling little brother.

Sam gave a long inhale and lifted his head to look up at Dean. Dean tilted his head and nodded.

"C'mon I'm your brother, Sammy, you can tell me anything. It's okay. What did you do?"

Sam's watery eyes dripped tears down his cheeks and Dean's shaky hand brushed Sam's hair back roughly. Sam swallowed with closed eyes and nodded.

"I… I…"

"What, Sammy? It's okay," Dean said quietly and rubbed the kid's back. Sam's lip quivered and he bit off a sob.

"I cheated on a test in school yesterday," Sam confessed, his face going red and fresh tears breaking forth.

Dean took a second for that to sink in as he stared at his on-the-brink-bawling little brother.

"Wait," Dean whispered, then gave a slight, uncomprehending shake of his head before it clicked.

"Are-you-fucking-me?!" Dean nearly yelled and the Rawhead let loose with another ferocious roar, causing the two of them to instinctively reach for each other. Sam turned into Dean's chest and hiccupped silent sobs against him, nodding his head in self-loathing confirmation about his unethical behavior.

"Oh my god," Dean breathed in disbelief, idly rubbing Sam's hunched back consolingly, He leaned his head back against the walls' corner and swallowed, composing himself. "Oh my god, Sammy, Sammy no, no- hey look at me," Dean pushed Sam's shoulders back and cupped his face in his hands so he had no choice but to look into Dean's eyes. "Sam, dude, it's cool," Dean impressed, "Seriously it's _fine_. People cheat – I've been cheating on tests for ages – it's okay!"

"No it's _not_," Sam whined back quietly, sniffling and gasping cries. "It's not it was _wrong_," Sam finished with conviction before breaking into hushed tears again.

"No no no Sammy I promise. I promise you it was okay, okay? You're forgiven. You're _totally_ forgiven, okay?"

Sam gave a hopeless keen and sunk against his big brother again. Dean's expression with the essence of distress as he rolled his eyes at his brother's steadfast ethics. This was fucking ridiculous…

"Nooo," Sam sobbed into Dean's chest and Dean realized that the tear rolling down his cheek was the result of panic-stricken incredulity. If they died here tonight because Sam had cheated on a fucking test in _fucking FOURTH GRADE_ Dean swore right there and then that he wouldn't move into the light: he'd stay right here in this realm of living just so he could haunt the shit out of that god damned teacher and their progeny for the rest of _eternity_.

Dean held a permanent expression of defeated horror while Sam just continued to grieve the upcoming compromised test results and glanced over at the creature.

"Oh fuck," Dean said flatly, watching the creature start to study the salt line.

Dean didn't even know if the confession had been helpful. It was a hail mary move anyway – a decent last shot before getting dragged to this thing's "den" and eaten. It obviously hadn't taken though: they had maybe minutes now before the thing would figure out it could just breathe at the salt line to open its chicken dinner.

Dean had to adjust his expectations.

He wasn't a hundred percent sure… but maybe like eighty-five percent sure that he'd be able to hold the creature off once it broke the salt line long enough for Sam to escape. Eighty-five wasn't half bad: he'd take it.

Dean pushed his body up impossibly closer into the corner of the room and pulled Sam up against him.

"I'm so sorry," Sam cried against his neck and Dean realized that Sam was apologizing for more than just the test. The kid had figured out that the Rawhead had sensed his trivial wrong-doing and now there was nothing to do about it.

Dean nodded and threaded his fingers through Sam's hair. Strangely, now that he was so close to death Dean was calm. He held his little brother close and leaned his cheek against Sam's temple. His breathing started to even out as the creature, on all fours now, had its head hanging down low to sniffing at the odorless salt grains that surrounded them.

This was pretty much it.

"Sh.. it's okay Sammy," Dean whispered into Sam's ear and kissed him gently against his temple, "Listen. This is what's going to happen. You're going to go to school tomorrow and you're gonna tell them that you cheated. You're gonna get like a detention or something and then they're gonna give you the test over again… and you're gonna ace it on your own merits," Dean spun the story so smoothly, his voice relaxed and peaceful. He even closed his eyes for a minute, dreaming of being there when Sam would get home proudly waving the test in his face, a red "A" splashed across it.

"But for right now, Sammy," Dean said soothingly, tilting his head to look at Sam sincerely. Sam looked up with raw, bloodshot eyes, "I need you to do something. If the Rawhead breaks through, I need you to run."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you," Dean lied with a kind smile and brushed Sam's hair back again. "You got it?"

"Yeah," Sam sniffed.

"Okay," Dean sighed, "Okay good."

Dean looked out past the two of them to see how close the Rawhead was to breaking the line. Should be any minute now-

Dean's brow furrowed with confusion as he looked around the room. It was gone. Dean jerked forward, dislodging Sam.

"Sam… Sammy it's gone!"

Sam twisted around, eyes frantically taking in the empty, run-down motel room.

"Where is it?!"

"I don't know," Dean answered, hope seeping into his tone.

"Do you think it's gone?!"

"I don't know," Dean replied even though he'd started to smile, his eyes glistening with happiness and relief.

"Dean-?" Sam prompted, having gotten up to kneel on the floor to get a better view of the entire room. They remained there, nervous and silent, making sure they weren't getting their hopes up but as the seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, the blanket of threat and fear began to lift and, finally, Dean let out a triumphant laugh.

"HA!" He exhaled, then turned to Sam with stunned, wide, _happy_ eyes, "We did it! It's gone!" Dean said, shocked. Sam just looked at his big brother, willing to trust his judgment and starting to ease up on his own anxiety.

"R-really?" Sam asked, scared to believe his own senses.

"YEAH!" Dean shouted, laughing, and stood up. He turned to Sam and bent down to help him up. Instead Sam shot up and tackled Dean with the best hug ever. Still shaky and starting to crash from the adrenaline that'd been pumping them for a full hour, they still held onto each other just as tight as before only this time out of joy and relief.

"We did it!" Dean laughed, realizing he was tearing up, and lifted Sam off his feet with excitement. Sam started laughing at that and when Dean set him down, he had to wipe his face and twinkling, watery eyes free of tears. He sniffed a few times, trying to get himself together, all the while grinning at his big brother.

Afterwards, Dean chanced crossing the salt line once to get them blankets from the beds. For the rest of the night they stayed inside the line as a precaution. John clocked in around one AM and found his sons huddled against each other covered in the motel's thin comforters in the corner of the room.

…

Epilogue

Dean and Sam veered off the street and up the gritty driveway to a dilapidated shack of a house. It fit the lore's description of a Rawhead's den perfectly and two kids had just been taken about two hours ago. Dean parked the car and the two of them ran to the trunk to grab their tasers.

Sam asked the voltage and Dean gave him the answer. Sam paused for a second.

"Whoa," he said, surprised at how high Dean was setting them.

"Yeah well. Since we can't get the kids to confess & go all feel-good on us, I want this sucker extra friggin-crispy."

"'kay," Sam agreed and followed his brother into the house.

"Hey Sam," Dean suddenly spoke up in a whisper as they cautiously made their way through the hosue.

"What?"

"Remember when you almost killed us because you cheated on a test?"

"Shut up."

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**Writer's Note: **That's it! Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare a minute!


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